


Within Him

by Floy_the_Writer



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ben is actually my smol son leave him alone, Does that make me a force neutralist?, Gonna write more of this ship and kind of become shipping mommy here, I think both sides of the force suck for what they do to him, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Star Wars - Freeform, The Force, okay, space boyfriends, space trash, this wrecked spaceship, well now that's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:32:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floy_the_Writer/pseuds/Floy_the_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Late at night, during their respective resting periods, he hears it.</p><p>Screams of agony echoing in halls of metal and darkness, falling on ears that are deaf to the distress the calls hold. No stormtrooper would breathe a question about their source, and into the silent void of space would they dissipate for a time before returning, each bout more hoarse than the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within Him

**Author's Note:**

> So guess who became Kylux trash after seeing Star Wars? THIS WRITER!!! Honestly, I'm just Ben Solo/ Kylo Ren trash in general because he's my precious baby, I have decided-- pairing be damned.  
> I don't actually see their relationship, as fabricated as it is, as a caring one, so I plan on writing some of the darker stuff for this ship in due time, but for now I give a bit of comfort because that's what makes my heart turn into a puddle of mush. I have a TON. Like MEGATON of ideas for this ship so all you Kylux starved shippers, fear not.  
> Without further ado:

Late at night, during their respective resting periods, he hears it.

Screams of agony echoing in halls of metal and darkness, falling on ears that are deaf to the distress the calls hold. No stormtrooper would breathe a question about their source, and into the silent void of space would they dissipate for a time before returning, each bout more hoarse than the last. 

Why he didn’t choose to move his private quarters to a further part of the ship, he had no idea. Phasma had done so almost immediately upon learning of her proximity to her fellow high ranking Order members. He had meant to do the same himself, but well… things had developed into somewhat of a routine within his sleep schedule, and why change now?

Sometimes he took pleasure in those screams from down the corridor. Reasoning to himself that the bastard deserved whatever pain his own psyche was putting him through. He would awaken to the calls and lie in bed listening to them. Sometimes they were ragged, as if torn from their host’s throat by the most frightening of beasts, and sometimes they were quiet moans of discomfort. Each probably signaled a different level of his affliction, but Hux wouldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know because he made a strict rule for himself (everyone knew he was very good at following rules and codes) and the rule was this: no matter what you hear or how bad the calls get you will never, never-ever get up to check on him.

Snoke would have his head if anything devastating were to happen to his precious asset. And, of course, if anything like that were to transpire because of these nightly episodes, Hux would undoubtedly be pinned under some blame for not doing anything to correct or monitor the problem.

And that is precisely why, on one particularly quiet night aboard the ship, Hux had to break his rule.

Usually, he would awaken easily, languidly, as the screams started up--as easily if it were a standard alarm clock waking him. But this time was different. Different and _not_ routine. It startled him awake, causing him to instinctively dive to the side of his bed for cover, hand sweeping under his pillow for the knife he kept underneath as a precaution.

Once crouched there on the floor he blinked the sleep from his eyes in confusion, expecting someone to be coming after his throat while he slept and receiving nothing but the empty silence of his living quarters in return for the amount of adrenaline running through his veins. And then it came again, just as loudly as the first time had apparently been.

It was terrible. Like nothing he had ever heard before. Not from civilians being tortured for information, not from those dying slow deaths inflicted by the Order. Different in a horrible way.

He got up from his defensive position and reached for the shirt he had discarded onto the floor before falling asleep, pulling the soft material overhead and glancing first at the clock beside the bed and then the knife still held tightly in his grip. He didn’t know what he would find, but his mind had already decided on the excursion, and so he kept it in hand as he swiped the door panel with his free one, stepping out quietly into the scarcely lit corridor.

Their quarters were not so far from each other, but there were empty rooms between to give them both adequate space away from one another. Hux counted the doors as he as he passed along. No distinct features were on any of them to tell him where another human being resided, but he knew the number he needed.

It was the seventh down, and the quiet of the corridor had begun to make Hux’s ears ring with phantom static. It felt as though the whole universe was asleep, save for himself, and for a moment he considered calling it a night and returning to the warmth of his bed.

But that awful noise came again--so much louder now in this proximity than it was before-- and he drew in a breath before swiping the door panel and quickly moving inside so it would close equally as fast, trapping the screams inside this space.

And screams, indeed. Hux crept to the bedroom just a ways off the living quarter’s receiving room and stopped short of his intended destination. Distracted by the writhing form before him.

His chest was bare to the cool air, yet it shone with sweat, enough to form running droplets that chased paths from skin to bed sheets. Bed sheets which laid twisted around ankles and bunched in white knuckled fists. 

He was quiet now, save for his heaving chest that rose and fell in short, rapid breaths as his head turned feverishly, dark hair slick with sweat and the perspiration beading on his temples faintly illuminated by the light of the stars outside the observation window that lined the near wall.

As Hux assessed the situation his gaze landed on a small pedestal closer by the window, a chair placed beside it and he moved closer to get a better look in the dim lighting. He stopped his approach immediately when he recognized the item, and then felt drawn to it as if by invisible threads.

Darth Vader. How that name has carried weight through this Order. It didn’t surprise the general to find this relic in the possession of this man. In fact, he had speculated for quite sometime that this was the case. Hux was no fool, despite what others may want to believe of him.

And he was no fool as to why Kylo Ren was in such pain. He had been told by Snoke because it was not a secret; other aspects he had figured out on his own.

The light and darkness within him...both sides were equally destructive. An endless tug-of-war that had persisted for as long as the man had existed. Luke Skywalker had seen it, and Snoke had even made a point of it, musing that never before had there been such balance in a user of the Force. The leader had chuckled and leaned in from his throne, as if to share with Hux a divine secret.

“But balance has its own flaws,” He said.”It cannot be too much of one or of the other. Constantly warring for stability when it would be so much easier to tip over the line in either direction. Conflicting, battling, destroying itself.” He smirked, a contortion of his face. “How gruesome.”

And it was, truly, as Hux glanced over his shoulder to watch a powerful man reduced to a whimpering mess before his very eyes. He felt thrown off as he walked near again in time to see a tear track its way down a pale cheek, disappearing into dark curls fanned across the stark white of his pillow. A noise escaped his throat somewhere halfway between a sob and sounding as though he was being choked by his own Force and without thinking Hux sat lightly on the bed’s edge and ran his fingers through the other’s hair, careful of awaking him and inciting some sort of unfortunate wrath. 

But he quieted almost immediately, as if freed from the clutches of his invisible adversary, and with a sigh the tension left his body completely. Hux was grateful for it, but also alarmed at his automatic response to the other’s distress. They weren’t enemies, not quite. Though they had perhaps considered one another rivals ever since they met years ago. But anything aside from coworkers did not exist. Friendship was _definitely_ not the case.

Hux continued his ministrations while simultaneously groaning internally. Now was not the time for any of this. There would never be a time for any of this because there--there _is_ nothing!

He removed his hand abruptly, practically hissing at his own thoughts.

Did he feel sorry for this man? This man who still seemed like such a child at times?  
The answer was short. Yes, he pitied him. With every temper tantrum and sleepless night. With the way he hid behind his mask and shied his face away every time he was without it. He was light living in darkness and darkness fighting the light and it was _killing_ him-- of that there was no doubt.

He turned to look at the sleeping man again, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he met the gaze of sleepy yet somehow still lazer sharp eyes.

Kylo seemed unfazed by the hoarseness of his own voice as he spoke. “General.” Always said less like a respectful title, more like a taunt.

Hux felt himself steel up. He put on an air of annoyance with ease. “Thought you were going to wake the whole ship with the way you were going on.” Kylo glanced at the clock nearby. Ungrateful bastard’s first reply: “Why are you in my private quarters?” There was a narrowing of dark eyes in suspicion to accompany it and Hux rolled his eyes in response so hard they felt like they would tumble right out of his skull.

“Why do you _think?_ I could hardly sleep when it sounds like a murder is taking place down the hall.” Hux thought about his words after he had said them and felt a little sick at the comparison, mostly because of how accurate it seemed.

Like the rude infant he was, Kylo huffed and turned away to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet with him and commanding in a low voice “Get out.” before settling down again.

Hux watched the planes of his back shift minutely before standing and making his way over to the door once again.

And that was that and they didn’t speak of it.

Or of any of the other times Kylo woke to the soothing touch of a hand threading through his hair.


End file.
